


Deep Into That Darkness Peering

by Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell



Series: Dysphoria [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some of this (not all) IS NOT CANON
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:31:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell/pseuds/Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell
Summary: A new enemy rises in the Commonwealth. Sole Survivor Delaney Pendleton, along with her companions, races the clock to defeat an organization more menacing than the Institute.(An indefinite amount of time passes between each chapter and some chapters are very short. I'm kinda lazy and I suck. The writing gets better as I go along. Promise.)





	1. Delaney

**Author's Note:**

> I might be making changes to different chapters as I move toward completing this. Chapters featuring Delaney's thoughts are in first person, while the rest are in third. Let me know what you think! (Or if you have any ideas). *Not beta'd*

I walk along the dusty, ruined aspahlt, Preston Garvey shuffling at my side. His sour mood is so palpable, I feel like I could reach out and snatch it from the air. God, I wish I could. Seeing such a good-hearted man in such a depressed state makes me feel like there's no more hope left in the world. I'll never forget his rage during the recent firefight at Breakheart Banks. 

We had been listening to Radio Freedom while resting at Somerville place. Preston cracked a rib on our last mission, so we'd been moving from settlement to settlement doing farm work here and there to help out while he recovered. The call for help from Breakheart Banks was been broadcast in the early evening when we stopped to eat dinner with a farmer and his family. A group of supermutants had attacked the settlement and were due to return within hours or a day at the most. So, we took off in the last light of the sun and traveled in the dark, not stopping for anything or anyone as usual. It was nearly the noon hour when reached our destination and it was already overrrun, mutants and their hounds pillaging and slaughtering what little settlers there were. By the time we had all of the mutants cleared, there was no one left but us. I watched in surprise and with a heavy heart as Preston dropped his laser musket and fell on his knees beside it, crying out, "Goddamn it! These people never had a chance!" He proceeded to shake with anger or saddness, I couldn't tell, but I knew he was devestated; as was I.  
Ever since we left the scene, he's been angry at the least and I can't say I blame him. It's been hard to not break down and hug him and tell him everything's okay, but a General has to maintain an air of strength, unable to show weakness in the face of defeat... even to a lover.  
Up ahead, the Red Rocket Truck Stop is coming into view, it's signature aircraft reaching for the clear blue sky. Stealing a look at Preston, I note his pursed lips, drawn eyebrows, and sad umber eyes. He can't take any more of this and there's no reason for me to make him. I stop in the middle of the road and grab the sleeve of his duster to slow him. "Hey," I say quietly. "Hold on a minute."

Preston straightens up and puts on his best emotionless expression, "Yes, General?"

"Listen...I think you should take a break for a little while. You know: a little R&R."

"I couldn't leave you out here alone, General, and I won't. I don't want you to be by yourself." His expression softens a little, the loyal minuteman slowly fading into an increasingly worried boyfriend. 

"I'll be fine, Preston." I slide my hand down his arm to grasp his leather-gloved hand. "I'm going to take a little rest myself."

"...Are you sure about this, Del?" And there goes the whole facade; the stone wall being condensed to rubble. He rarely ever called me by my name unless it was in private or he was truly too tired to go on. 

"I am. I'm going to hang out with Danse for a little while at the Rocket then I'll be in Sanctuary if you need me, okay?"

"Alright..." He squeezes my hand a little, showing he understands. "I'll go hold down the Castle. I've missed it anyhow. You be careful, Jude. I don't know if I could live with myself if something were to happen to you."

"I will be, Preston. Don't worry."

He smirks a little and he looks like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders. Pulling me towards him a little, Preston leans in and kisses my forehead gently before readjusting his pack and heading back toward Concord. 

I watch him for a little while then head on up to the Red Rocket, making my way through the gates. While Sanctuary Hills will always be my home, the Red Rocket is my favorite settlement. It's small, quiet, and my favorite companion lives here: Former Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, Danse. He's worked it from the ground up, planting it's first crops and taking in all the settlers I've sent his way. He's made it a true home and I couldn't be more thankful for it.

Across the way, I can see him on his knees in the carrot patch, experly removing weeds from around the vegetables. He's come a long weary road since I first laid eyes on him, towering above me in that battered power armor. Now, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, he's the most docile and caring person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

I make my way across the settlement towards him, the fingers of my right hand finding the wedding ring on opposite. Danse wears the matching ring on a chain around his neck. It's the same ring my previous husband Nate wore before he was killed in Vault 111. The former Paladin insisted he was making a promise to me and to Nate by wearing it: a promise to protect and love me until death do us part, just as Nate would've done. It made me nervous at first, but I've warmed up to his idea. 

In my vision, I see Danse sit on his haunches, stretching the muscles of his back. He looks around over the other workers, passing me over for a moment before he does a double take, a smile spreading over his face. God, it's been too long since I've seen that smile.  
Danse stands up from his spot on the ground and I quickly close the distance between us. Hopping into his waiting open arms, I wrap my own tightly around his neck and bury my face against his dark hair. Even now, he still smells faintly of power armor grease and gunpowder. Some things just never let go. 

"You were gone way too long, Delaney," Danse rumbles in my ear. "I don't think I could handle it if you had took any more time away."

I smile at his fondness, happy to have someone to hang onto in this crazy world. "It won't happen again. I promise."

"Good." He gently sets me down and kisses my temple. "How was your trip?"  
"Long and tiring. We lost an entire settlement to supermutant horde... we got there too late..."

Danse's happy expression falters and he squeezes me a little tighter against his chest "I...I'm sorry..."

I can only nod a little and lean against him, closing my eyes so I can just focus on him. However, the silence only lasts a few moments before we both hear the defeaning hum of a vertibird approaching the settlement. Danse tenses at the sound, eyes searching the sky for the aircraft's familiar outline. 

I step away from him and nod knowingly, allowing him to rush out of sight. Once he's inside, I turn my head to look at the vertibird. A my heart skips a beat as I watch it land in the middle of the ruined road, two knights in power armor hopping out followed, surpisingly, by Lancer-Captain Kells. I've never seen him leave the command deck much less the actual Prydwen. The sight of him walking towards my little settlement unnerves me severely. 

Coming to attention as he approaches, I bring up my hand in the Brotherhood salute, my voice wavering slightly as I speak, "Captain Kells, sir."

"At ease, Sentinel. Salute is not required under these circumstances."

"What circumstances might those be, sir?" I relax and fold my arms, cocking my hip out. All of the settlers have stopped their duties and chores, gathering into small groups to whisper and watch.

Kells purses his lips and shifts his weight, unhappy with all of the sudden attention. "I'm afraid that I cannot discuss such matters out in the open. I've only come to summon you back to the Prydwen... Danse as well."

My eyes widen a little and my muscles draw tight with surprise. I scramble to find the right words so as not to give my friend and lover away, "Captain Kells, you know as well as I do that it's been months since I executed Paladin Danse. Unless synths have found a way to ressurect themselves, he's rotting the exact spot I left him at Listening Post Bravo."

 

"Not according to Elder Maxson."

"Maybe he should check in with Cade. He might be having a lapse in memory due to that oversized head of his."

Kells twitches a little, hating to hear the Elder talked about in such a way. "Sentinel, you've been ordered to return to the Prydwen along with former Paladin Danse and that's FINAL. 

No questions or objections. I'll expect to see you at the vertibird and five minutes." He turns on his heel and heads back toward the aircraft.  
I look over toward the station to see Danse poking his head out the garage. After I motion for him to come out, he takes careful calculated steps out toward me, eyeing the vertibird parked on our front doorstep. 

"What's going on?" He asks quietly, unsure of what to do or say.

"Apparently we've been summoned back to the Prydwen."

"We?"

"Yes. Congrats, Danse. You're not dead anymore. 

The soldier in front of me frowns a little, not out of anger but curiosity and thought. He makes that face so much I'm used to it and I have to admit that I find it pretty cute. "I... don't understand."

I shrug a little, rolling my shoulders to loosen the muscle. "Well, you can think about it more on the way back to the Prydwen. I think we'd better get going before Kells has us smashed to bits." I nudge him in the the direction of the vertibird and we start walking, the two power armored nights falling into step behind us as escorts.  
Kells is waiting for us on the vertibird already, strapped in and ready to go. The aircraft sputters to life, making questionable noises as the propellers start spinning. Danse and I climb up and strap in beside him while the knights behind us climb in. The 'bird lifts from the ground and heads off across the Commonwealth.

Kells clears his throat, looking over at Danse, "I've been asked to reinstate you as a Paladin. Congratulations."

Danse's eyes widen. "Thank you, sir."

I reach down and grab Danse's hand at his side, squeezing it and giving him a smile. He smiles back timidly and it's obvious to me that he feels uncomfortable.

I speak up next, rubbing Danse's calloused knuckles with her thumb between. "So... How come we've been reassigned to the Prdywen? I was under the impression I could run my own solo missions now."

"I'm afraid," Kells nods towards the pilots and their accompanying nights, "I've been ordered not to speak of the matter. You'll have to see Elder Maxson."

"Riiight." Rolling my eyes, I look out over the ocean as we start into the docking bay of the Prydwen. 

Once were locked in, Danse, Kells, and I hop out. The crew seem to look a Danse with friendlier eyes now, confusing the both of us.  
Kells glances around, urging everyone back to work. "Elder Maxson is in his quarters. You may head on in."


	2. Danse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short explanation: In this story, Danse is human and the Institute was planning to replace him with M7-97. The synth, programmed with Danse's personality and survival instincts, escaped. So, that's why Danse's DNA matched that of M7-97's.

Danse glances around the main deck, eyes following the main hallway as far as he can see, bodies in uniform filtering in and out of his vision. It's strange being here with these people; people he once considered his only family. They were his brother's and sisters and he would've gladly laid down his life in their defense. Since being cast out and hunted down, his ideals have changed and that means he cannot guarantee that he would sacrifice himself in any situation for anyone. There's only one person he's willing to protect and she's standing at his side, still accepted and loved by them. 

Delaney grabs his hand again, squeezing it. She often does so to ground herself in stressful situations. It's a habit he hopes she never breaks. While they share many nights in his bed together, the simplest of contact (such as her constant hand-holding) is enough to make him feel fulfilled and happy. Squeezing back, Danse let's his love lead him around the ladder and to the door of Elder Maxson's quarters. 

Everything seems to blur out as she opens the door. A feeling of immense anxiety he's never experienced before settles into his stomach, making him queazy. He doesn't know if he can face Arthur after what happened between them. His dearest and closest friend betrayed him and would have had him killed to satisfy his own bigotry. But, what he sees in the Elder's quarters, is a far cry from the man who threatened to plunge a knife into his neck.

Arthur lies on his bed, eyes closed and skin sweaty. As the room comes into focus, dimly lit, Danse can take in more detail about his former friend. He's thinned down considerably, cheeks and eyes becoming slightly hollowed. There's a slight twitch in his right hand where is rests above his left outside his thick blankets. As far as everyting else goes, Arthur looks downright awful. 

Upon hearing their entering footsteps, Arthur opens his eyes, blue irises shining with fever in the light. His voice is thin and crackling when he speaks. "Sentinel... Danse..." 

"Elder? What's happened to you?" Delaney pipes up beside Danse, a tone of concern in her own soothingly smooth voice. 

Arthur starts moving, bracing his shaking hands underneathing him to push up into a sitting position. The blanket falls to reveal him out of his usual black officer's uniform and shirtless, thick bandages covering his midsection. A dark stain blackens the white gauze so carefully arranged around him.

"It's.. quite a long story..." The young elder speaks quietly, seeming to try and save what strength he has left. "But first... I must apologize... Danse, I am truly sorry... I... let my own ideals blind me to who you really were... you were my friend... I shouldn't have let my assumptions that you were a synth get in my way..."

Danse raises a questioning eyebrow. "Assumptions, Elder?"

"Yes... We... we found the true M7-97... Under the premise that it was you, it was shot on sight and brought back for examination... We can only presume it was meant to replace you, but escaped before it could... Too much like you, I guess..." Arthur chuckles a little, the sound rattling in his chest painfully.

Danse feels his chest swell with happiness, then fill with leaded anxiety again."Pardon my questioning, Elder, but how did you know it wasn't me? If you thought I was a synth, there would've been no way of knowing."

"We've had you under surveillance since you moved to the Red Rocket settlement... we checked again to see you still there... You're human, Paladin..."

Danse sees Delaney smile wide out of his peripheral vision, just as happy with the news as he is. He can barely believe this is happening. It's making his head spin. He should be elated, but his deep hatred for those who turned on him.

"But... on to why you're both here... We are dealing with a new force here in the Commonwealth... We don't know who they are or what they want, but they do pose a threat to the good of the people... They're just as dangerous as the Institute..."

"That doesn't explain what happened to you, Elder," Delaney says as she moves over to the table and pulls out a chair, dragging over to his bedside.  
Arthur takes a deep breath to ready himself for the explaination of his grevious injury. "Days ago, I was addressing the crew at the airport to raise morale... A sniper, likely from the new threat, in a nearby building was preparing to take me out, but I noticed him before he could... Instead of taking his original head shot, he made another hasty, less calculated shot and hit me here." He places hand over the left side of his ribs. "Knicked my lung and lodged in the back of my ribcage... but that's not all... Cade found high amounts of radition in my blood work... whatever the bullet was laced with is slowly poisoning me..."

"Surely a radaway would take care of that."

"Cade tried that... He had to have tried at least ten... It barely lowered the levels... I don't have much time left, so I wanted to make sure I have someone to take my place as I have no heirs... That's why you're here. I know you are very... careful... about such things and I wanted to know how you felt... about becoming Elder..."

Delaney's eyes widen and her mouth falls open in a silent 'oh'. Danse comes to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders to support her through this, unsure of how he feels about this. Among his mixed emotions, he feels pride that his Delaney has been chosen to become the potential next Elder of the East Coast Brotherhood of Steel. She would make one of the best, destined to stand among the greats like their founder, Roger Maxson. But, he also feels that she would not be able to handle all the formality and the duties. 

She's a free spirit and being trapped in the confines of the Citadel would wear her beyond the belief.

"E-Elder," Delaney stutters, "I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to give me an answer right away. This is something I'd rather you think about, actually."

"Yes," Danse interjects, "It's quite the heavy decision."

Delaney just nods, not trusting her own voice at this point. 

"Let me just..." Arthur swings his feet towards the edge of the bed, planting them as firmly as he can on the floor to stand. When he does so, however, his knees have no strength to support him. He huffs out a breath and begins his descent to the floor. Danse, to his own surpise, is the first to his side, grabbing his sweaty arm before he can hit the deck.  
The young Elder wheezes out a strangled cough as Danse helps him regain his balance and move back to the bed. Second nature tasks like walking require so much energy it seems.

"You need to rest, Elder," Danse mutters matter-of-factly. "I can step the Sentinel through the Litany as I assume you were going to attempt."

"Of.. of course, Danse.. I'll just... please send for Knight-Captain Cade if you get a moment... I have an awful headache..."

Delaney stands from her chair. "We will, Elder. Just rest."

Arthur nods, sea-blue eyes slowly falling closed with exhaustion. By the time Danse has the blankets over him, he's already asleep.  
Delaney comes over beside him, her hand coming up to close around his forearm. "Danse... We have to help him... I can't do it... I can't be Elder..."

Danse brings his hand up to cover hers. "We can make decisions like that later. Come on. Let's go fetch Knight-Captain Cade."

She nods and lets him walk her out of the room.


	3. Cade

Cade trudges down the hall toward the Elder's quarters, heart heavy with concern and hopelessness. Within a week, the man who he called leader and friend would be dead and nothing could be done about it. They've searched all over the Commonwealth and scoured all the prewar documents for an answer, a cure, but none have been found. Quinlan has been standing over those survival manuals for days straight now. Any poor scribe to even make their way past his office has suffered his sleep-deprived wrath. Cade just barely made it out of the line of fire to get down here.

Glancing again at the blood work results in his hands, he almost collides with Sentinel Delaney and the newly reinstated Paladin Danse. Stumbling back startledly, Cade drops his clipboard and bends for it, only to have it retrieved by the Sentinel and placed back into his hands. 

"Forgive me, Sentinel. I'm not usually this clumsy," he murmurs, surprised at how tired his own voice sounds.

"That's quite alright, Knight-Captain. We were just coming to fetch you. Elder Maxson has asked for you. Something about a headache." She offers him a smile, white teeth standing out against red lips.

"How coicidental. I was on my way to see him." Dropping his voice to a whisper, Cade glances down at the grim report. "His condition seems to be worsening."

"I really hope there's something we can do about this. He looks awful."

"Indeed. We've been working tirelessly, but with no luck."

Delaney sighs a little, eyes wandering down to the floor with a look of... grief, perhaps?

"But," Cade starts again, hoping to lift her spirits, "We'll get to the bottom of it in no time. Meanwhile, I want to see you both in the sickbay after you've cleaned up. It's been awhile since you've both reported for duty and I can't have you possibly passing around Commonwealth diseases to the rest of the crew."

She lifts her eyes again, smirking a little. "Yes, sir."

Cade smiles back at her and starts on his path again, this time keeping his eyes on Elder Maxson's door.


	4. Delaney

After squirming into the tightness of a fresh officer's uniform, I'm having a war with pulling the zipper all the way up the back. As practical as they might be for soldiers who live in their power armor, they are remarkably impractical for everyone and everything else. They're cold in the winter, hot in the summer, and a bitch to try and relieve yourself in. But, here I am, looking like a puppet with tangled strings trying to finish putting on the hellish thing. 

A chuckle rings out behind me, deep and growling. "Would you like some help, Sentinel?" Danse asks, his own large hands grabbing mine to ease them away.

I roll my eyes, letting him grab the zipper and finish pulling it up. "I'd be dead without you, Danse. I'm just so helpless," I deadpan.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm here then." And there goes the sarcasm, right over his head. I swear, this man that I love can be a real bonehead sometimes.

As his hands settle around my waist, I turn to face him and drape my arms over his neck. "...Do you think I'd be a good Elder? I mean... would I be cut out for it?"  
"Delaney, I've watched you tame raiders, soothe settlers, and make the abominations of the Commonwealth fear you with the blink of an eye. Of course, you'd be a respectable and accomplished Elder. But, I fear that it would wear on you. You've seen Maxson. He's barely into his twenties and he looks like he's been to hell and back. I don't want to see that done to you." The Paladin brings his hand up and brushes the hair from my face, a sea of emotions swirling in those chocolate brown eyes.

"I'm going to think about it some more. Don't worry about me, okay? You're starting to get grey hair." I smirk at him. 

"I can't help myself." He pulls me so close that I almost feel suffocated and presses his forehead into the crook of my neck. I don't mind it one bit though. I know he needs this kind of contact. He needs affection and I'm willing to give him everything I have. 

When I first came to the Prydwen, I did my usual snooping, looking behind doors and in cabinets, footlockers, and such. The junk they keep around here could repair everything in Sanctuary ten times over. Upon slipping into the empty sickbay, I hacked my way into the medical terminal. Some of the files were grim, some were funny (the one about the guy with the ghoul STD rotting his genital was a riot), but one struck a deep chord in my heart. 

Upon learning that Danse was dealing with PTSD, I knew that this man deserved my respect. Nate had problems with it after he came back from the war. Just like I did with him, I've learned to read Danse, every little detail standing out and telling me what he needs and when becase I know that he's not likely to communicate what he's feeling unless it's eating at him too much.

Reaching up, I stroke back his dark hair, closing my own eyes to just take in one of our very few quiet moments.

After he's grounded himself enough, Danse stands back up, hands sliding to encricle my waist again. "Come on. Let's go get this examination done."

I nod and we both head down to the sick bay where Knight-Captain Cade is waiting for us. Cade is sitting on his stool at the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. 

"Knight-Captain?" I say quietly, trying to ease him out of whatever he's thinking. 

He looks up at me and smiles a little, brushing the clipboards and medical instruments aside. "Sentinel, Paladin. Thank you for coming. We'll just be doing a standard physical." He stands up and picks up two different file folders. "Which of you would like to go first?"

Danse and I look at each other questioningly, almost daring the other to say something. After a moment of awkward staring, I finally roll my eyes and looks back over to Cade. "I guess I will."

"Very well, Sentinel. Paladin, if you'll excuse us," he responds. "Close the door behind you."

Danse nods, "Yes, Knight-Captain." He steps back across the threshold and closes the door, allowing Cade to begin with the examination.


	5. Maxson

Arthur Maxson stares at himself in the small mirror above his desk, looking at his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks with disgust. How could he allow this to happen? How did that sniper sneak onto the base? How... did he get here?

He barely recognizes the man reflected back at him. The lines and scars on his face age him so severely, someone could mistake him for a middle-aged man rather than a twenty-year old one. If anything, his dying would be a relief, a release from all of this. He supposes that's one of the reasons he's completely at peace with this.

Bringing his gaze back down to the terminal in front of him to look at the recent patrol reports. More and more sightings of the mysterious persons, similar to the one who got a lucky shot on him, are coming up all over the Commonwealth. Fantastic. 

Angrily hitting the delete button on the terminal, Arthur stands from his chair, struggling to get to his feet. He knew it was a mistake to dress today. Just getting out of bed was a battle. But, he can't stay in this godforsaken room anymore. He's ready to go mad.

Shrugging into his heavy ballistic battle coat, Arthur prepares himself to head into the hallway, making himself presentable before opening his door. 

The light is almost blinding, drilling into his eyes and pounding in his head. When he manages to open them, he sees Sentinel Pendleton heading down the hall toward him. 

"Elder Maxson?" She says, coming into his view and thankfully blocking the light. "What're you doing up? You should be resting, sir."

"I'm aware of that, Sentinel," He leans on the doorfacing and rubs his forehead, trying to get the looming headache to subside, "But I cannot stay in this room any longer. Its going to drive me mad."

She laughs a little, a beautiful ringing sound that could tame even the strongest of super mutants. "I can understand that. Would you like some help?"

He opens his eyes, barely making out her figure against the lighted backgound. "If... you would not mind. I would like to go to the mess hall."

"Of course." She offers her arm to lean on, almost making Arthur laugh. He stands almost a foot taller than her and that doesn't even account for his weight. Such a small thing supporting him is ridiculous. But, he keeps the humor to himself and allows her to guide him out of his room and down the hall to the comissary. "Would you like anything to eat or drink? I can grab you something."

She helps him ease into a chair, earning concerned glances from the soldiers in the room. "No, I'm alright, Sentinel. I cannot retain food these days. Thank you for your assistance."

"It's no problem, Elder. Do you mind if I sit with you? Danse is still in his physical."

He nods a little and she takes a seat across from him. Arthur has always enjoyed Delaney's company, fond of her looks and personality. "Have you... thought about my proposal?"

She clears her throat, gracefully lacing her fingers in front of her on the table. "I'm considering it, but I still need a little time."

"That's just fine. ...If you'd like my opinion... I'd feel at peace if you did. You are a remarkable tactician and leader. Hell, you've already got half of the Prydwen prepared to follow you across the Commonwealth at the drop of a pin." 

"I'm... flattered, Elder. Thank you."

Arthur nods a little, twiddling his thumbs as they both fall silent. 

Everything would be fine with her; if she'd only accept. Delaney shows so much potential as a leader. Of course, there are a few things that could be worked out of her: her impulsiveness and her often callous attitude are just a couple of the problems. But, she'd have Danse to guide her. He'd give the title to Danse instead, but their previous interactions have really put a damper on their friendship and Arthur knows it's his fault. 

At this point, the last Maxson's only regret is that he won't be able to leave an heir behind. Finding a woman to wed wouldn't be a hard task. The only problem is being able to father a child. He barely has any strength to get out of bed, much less perform in one. While it makes him uneasy to think about it, he tries to push the feelings down. Delaney is his last hope. There's no going back now.


	6. Cade

"CADE!"

The head physician startles up from his counter, the stool he was sitting on flipping backwards with the sudden shift in weight and throwing him to the floor, knocking the wind out of him. Clearly, after his examination of Paladin Danse, Cade fell asleep on the spot due to exhaustion. Taking care of and trying to find a cure for Elder Maxson is wearing on him as well as everyone else. 

Hurried footsteps tear across the hall and whirlwind into the sick bay. Proctor Quinlan comes into view. "What the bloody hell are you doing down there, Cade?"  
The Knight-Captain groans and sits up, careful with the shoulder he landed on. "Inspecting the dust. Making sure it's sanitary. Now, what in god's name did you want?"

Quinlan clutches the file folder in his hand excitedly. "The Children of Atom."

 

"That bunch of psychopaths? What about them?"

The proctor raises his eyebrows as if expecting Cade to catch on. "The. Children. Of. Atom." Cade squints at him, still not sure what he's talking about. "Christ, man, they can help!   
Most of them have a natural immunity to the effects of radiation poisoning. Surely they must have some way to help Elder Maxson."

Cade's expression morphs into one of anger and agitation, getting to his feet. "Why didn't you come across this before?"

"I'm still a bit fuzzy on that. I can't remember. I just happened to come across this in one of my old file cabinets." He tosses the tan packet on the counter, leaning against the wood. "This is the closest chapter we can find." 

Cade picks it up and starts sifting through the papers, taking note of names like 'Tektus' and 'Richter'. "Strange. They're based in Far Harbor?"

Quinlan nods, "Yes. I'm going to suggest that Sentinel Pendleton be sent to investigate. She's been there before. And, knowing her more than adventurous and, uh, charming personality, she's bound to uncover something on the new threat on our hands."

Cade shakes his head, closing the file folder. "She's not cleared to leave the Prydwen."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"You must promise to not pass along this information, but Elder Maxson has proposed that she become the next Elder if he should... pass. She's under a high security lockdown."

"Well... Then I suppose we could send Paladin Danse. Has he been cleared for field duty?"

"Yes. His previous symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder have vanished for the present moment."

"Good. Now, I'm going to get some rest. I could sleep for days."

Cade slides the folder aside. "When you wake up, I want to perform an exam to make sure you're still functioning properly."

Quinlan nods and heads out the doorway.


	7. Delaney

The Prydwen's mess hall is always bustling, no matter the time of day. Some soldiers ad scribes just pass through, while others always seem to be here. The smell of cigarette smoke and some ungodly creation being concocted behind the counter are suffocating today, almost to the point of making me lose my lunch.

Clutching my cup of coffee, I head into the power armor bay and lean agains the wall to escape the horrid aroma. A group of chattering squires breezes past, excitedly talking about their new assignments. One is going to shadow Knight-Sargent Gavil while another is going to Scribe Haylen at Cambridge Police Station. I wish I could be as excited as they are.

My first time aboard the Prydwen was exasperationg. I felt like I was a hurricane, nothing daring to stand in my path; on top of the world. But that was months ago. After the destruction of the Institute, however, I chose to end my tour of duty on the Prydwen and I never wanted to come back.

I feel a hand on my waist and someone blocks my light, pulling me out of the trance I was in. Danse.   
Those soft brown eyes gleam down at me, his lips curled into a beautiful smile. "What's on you mind, Sentinel?"

"Danse," I sigh, putting my mug of coffee down on a cart beside me, "I can't take the title."

He brings his hand up and brushes my hair back from my face, reminding me that I should bathe sometime soon. "This is your decision, Delaney. I'm sure Arthur will understand."

"But what if he doesn't? He's not exactly open-minded."

"I've... I was friends with him for a long time. Believe me, he struggles with being Elder at the best of times. He'll sympathize with you."

I look down, placing my hands on the arms he has around my waist. "I hope you're right, Danse."

He leans in and kisses my forehead before pulling me against his chest. "Whatever you decide, I've got your back. No matter what."

"I know you do," I smile a little and relax against him. 

When I'm with Danse, the world doesn't seem so fucked over. He calms me in a way no one else can, makes me feel at home. For the first time since Nate died, I truly have someone to hold onto and I'm not willing to let go of him.

Breaking the silence between us, I quietly mutter, "Where have you been anyway?"

"Well... I've been reassigned..."

I straighten up, looking him in the eyes worriedly, "Where are you going?"

"Please don't fear for me. I've been told to travel to Far Harbor to look for a cure for Elder Maxson's condition. The Children of Atom may have something we can use."

"The Children of Atom? I've had dealings with them. Grand Zealot Richter and I... well... never mind."

Danse raises an eyebrow. I can tell he's processing what I stopped myself from saying. Usually, such topics go right over his head, but lately he's become more and more aware of them as well as more paranoid. The other day, Hancock made a comment about a 'chem break' in a more than suggestive way. Danse went ballistic and would've killed him if I hadn't broke up the pissing contest.

"What about Ricther? I know you're hiding something from me, Delaney," He rumbles, almost growling.

"Danse, I was... with him a long time before you and I got together. Trust me, there's nothing that's going to come between us."

He sighs a little, looking down. "I'm sorry... I just don't want to lose you... I don't know what I'd do.."

"You'll never have to find out." I smile and run my fingers through his unruly hair.


	8. Danse

Danse glances around the bustling dock, watching the harbormen and women go about their daily chores. He catches weary glances from thes settlers, probably more than intimidating in his power armor. Wearing it before was so easy, so surreal, but now the metal encasing his body feels suffocating and heavy after being free of it for so long. Seeing the way these people look at him heightens the feeling, guilt churning his insides.

The field scribe behind him clears his throat, pulling Danse out of his stupor. When he turns around, the man nods towards the little bar and inn over on the end of the dock, "I believe we should acquire accommodations before we proceed further into the island, sir. Sentinel Pendleton warned against bivouacking in the fog."

"Good thinking, Scribe..." Maze? Mack?

"Rix, Sir," The scribe says, bringing his hands together in front of him.

"Right.. Let's go." Danse starts clunking off to the inn, The Last Plank.

He has to duck to get through the door of the bar, Scribe Rix following right behind him. Elder Maxson insisted he take a full team to scour the island, but Danse only wanted a couple soldiers with him on this. The less personnel involved, the less attention they would draw.

As soon as he is inside, all of the bar's patrons stop to look at him, confusion and fear in their eyes. Clearing his through awkwardly, Danse and Rix make their way through the wall of people over to the bar to find out if there are any rooms available.

The bartender takes a good long look at the odd pair. A man in a full suit of power armor and a nerd walk into a bar... sounds like a bad joke. "Hello there," he says. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, citizen," Danse starts, hating all the protocol he's had to get used to again. "We would like to rent quarters if you have vacancies. We can pay any amount of caps you name."

"Got two rooms. Depending on how long your stay is, the payment will vary." The bartender takes a damp rag out from under the counter and begins wiping down its dusty surface.

"The length of our stay in unknown. How about a thousand caps for a week. Another thousand if we stay longer than that." Danse removes a pouch bursting with the currency from the storage compartment of his power armor and drops it on the counter. The bartender stares wide-eyed at it for moment before he respond, voice toned highly with shock.

"Up the stairs to your right, down the hall straight ahead. Rooms are across from each other." 

Danse and Rix both nod and head up to their respective rooms.   
***   
Four days of constant searching, mapping, and fighting off the local wildlife finally pay off. Each day, Rix and Danse took their path a little further, making their way more and more inland. Of course, Delaney had given them directions on how to get there, but they were vague and often led them off the path into a bush somewhere. 

Stepping into what could be a small courtyard, Danse grips his rifle tighter and glances around to inspect the area. The fog around them is a sickly green, mimicking the rad storms he's experienced back home. Through the mists, he can see glowing, radioactive water sloshing around in bottles and old light-bulbs as the wind softly blows around them. 

"Uh... Sir?" Rix says behind him, voice wavering slightly. Danse turns to see the scribe frozen in place, the barrel of a rifle pressed against his temple. 

The man holding it bears a striking resemblance to Elder Maxson, both in looks and the way he seems to carry himself. He looks over at Danse, blonde hair shining in the radioactive light of the water. "Put your gun down and take off your helmet, Soldier. I won't ask you twice," He almost growls, again the spitting reincarnation of Maxson, but clearly much older.

Danse nods a little, crouching to lay his laser rifle down, and putting his hands up to remove his helmet. 

The man turns his body more toward Danse, the barrel of his rifle still held firmly to Rix's head. "State your business, Paladin."

"I'm looks for the Children, specifically Brian Richter. I've been told that he can help me."

The man looks Danse up and down, not dropping his guard for a moment, before he speak again, "You've found Brian Richter. What can I assist you with?"

"A fri-- colleague of mine is ill with serious radiation poisoning. Our scribes think your group might have some sort of cure. Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd lower your weapon."

Richter looks at the Scribe at the end of his rifle then lowers it. "Remove your armor and make your way inside the Nucleus. We can discuss this further there." He rolls his shoulders   
and heads inside.


	9. Maxson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson has some fun (Wait... does he know what fun is?)

"Arthur?"

He knows who it is before he opens his eyes. That sultry voice belonging to a woman nearly ten years his elder has fueled his fantasies since young adulthood. Behind his lids, he can see that short silvery hair she always keeps so meticulously styled and those steely blue eyes that almost glow in areas of darkness. 

Arthur cracks open his eyes to see her close to his side, form draped in long leather overcoat. Pity. He could use the sight of her curves right now. A small smile breaking across his lips through the weakness, he responds softly, "You made it. Thank you for coming... Wanderer."

"Anything for you, Elder." Her hands come up and push back her hood. It's been too long since he's seen her. Her hair is almost shoulder length now, but still kept cleanly curled and swept back from her sharp features. "How are you feeling?"

Arthur starts to sit up, but her hands come up to his arm and ease his back down. "A little worse for wear, but alright. I've missed seeing you."

She smiles widely, ruby lips pulling back from almost blindingly white teeth. "I've missed you, too. The Citadel seems so empty without my favorite crew. Especially without you and Danse. I could sit with you two for hours."

Arthur smiles, gently taking her hand in his own. She rubs her thumb over his marred knuckles, taking a moment to trace an old scar across the back of his hand. 

After what seems like an eternity of silence, she speaks again. "Have they made any progress in finding a cure for you?"

"Danse has gone to Far Harbor to see the Children of Atom. Proctor Quinlan thought they might know something. We've... not heard from them yet."

"I'm sure they'll find something, Arthur. Don't give up just yet." She raises his hand up to her lips and presses a kiss to his calloused fingers then brings it back down to hold it in her lap. 

"Katherine," Arthur starts, the word almost catching weakly in his throat. "I... I've..." He trails off, not know how to say it. 

"Yes? Are you alright?" Her brows crease in concern, one hand moving up to rest on his chest.

He looks at her for a moment, chewing a little on the inside of his bottom lip, before he leans up and grasps her trim waist, brushing his lips across her own, giving her a chance to back away. To his surprise, Katherine leans into it, returning the soft movement. His grip on her hips tightens slightly and he uses what little strength he has to coax her onto the mattress with him. 

She rests beside him, but breaks the contact of their lips. "Arthur... this isn't right..."

He leans back, searching her features. "Is... is something wrong? Have I done something?"

Her eyes trail downward towards her fingers where they fidget with her duster clips. "No... No, no. This... just feels wrong. I'm so much older than you."

Arthur smiles and shakes his head. "Not by much. And I don't mind it at all. I've... held a torch for you since I was a teen."

Katherine glances up at him timidly. "You're... sure about this?"

"I am. If these... if I'm experiencing my last days on this earth... I want to spend them with you."

She smirks, her beautiful features brightening, and Arthur leans up to kiss her again. Little does he know what she's got planned for him.


	10. Delaney

"Again, Sentinel," Quinlan says, eyes scanning over the pages of an old pre-war book I brought for him. We've been going over the Litany for hours. I've repeated lines from it so much I'll probably be uttering them in my sleep. 

I yawn, beginning to speak halfway through, "Ranks Paladin and higher have the right to challenge the Elder's authority in two ways: in contest of battle or by debate. If contest of battle is chosen by the Elder, he will also choose the time and place of the contest. The same rules apply for debate."

"You're learning," the Scribe mutters, adjusting his glasses. "You're dismissed for now. Get some rest. We'll pick this up tomorrow morning after you've had your breakfast."

"Praise the great Roger Maxson himself." I rise from the chair, legs numb after sitting there for so long, and head out into the hallway. The lights have been dimmed here and the above deck is completely dark. Pulling my Pip-Boy up to eye level, I squint against the green glow to see the time. Almost two o'clock in the morning. Figures. At this rate, I'll be fit for Elder in no time with the amount of sleep I've been getting this week. 

Heading toward the mess hall to grab a snack, I stretch the muscles along my spine, drawn tight with lack of rest and from sitting in that damned chair. Sitting on a supermutant's lap would've been more comfortable. I feel each bone in my body crack loudly and I groan in an equal tone.

A startled sound from behind the bar catches my attention. The light from the refridgerator shines brightly, much to the dismay of my eyes sockets, as I look over the edge of the counter to see a woman sitting there in a long black duster and what I recognize as pre-war riot gear, clearly modified to be more suitable for the Wasteland. "Oh, shit..." She hops up, cradling a bottle of Nuka-Cola and a salibury steak dinner in her arms. 

"Who the hell are you?" I ask as her hazel-blue eyes track up the height of the counter to look at me.

"Gotta bounce!" She says hurriedly, then leaps over the counter with ease, taking off to the ladder connecting the command deck to the main deck. 

"Hey!" I sprint after her, trying to catch up. 

She disappears into the darkness of the hallway and I speed up. 

Suddenly, the lights in the officer's quarter's hallway flick on, blinding the both of us. The woman startles, tripping over her own feet, while I go dizzy and have to stop and catch my breath. 

When my blurred vision clears from my tired eyes, I see Elder Maxson standing in his doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants, with another strange woman at his side.

"Six!" The woman next to Maxson squeals, racing over to wrap the woman in riot gear a hug. "You're here!"

"Well, yeah," Six says, returning the woman's hug. "Couldn't let you alone with these bitches, now could I?"

Maxson rolls his eyes, looking over at me almost apoligetically. "Who the hell ARE these two? What're they doing here?" I shout, probably waking up half the damned crew, but fuck I need answers.

"I..." He starts, looking every bit his age all of a sudden. "You three should just talk this out. I can't explain."

"That sounds like a great idea," the woman who emerged from his room says. "How about in the mess hall?"

***

"So you were shot in the head?" I look over at Six, raising my eyebrows and bringing my beer bottle to my lips.

"Damn straight," she says, almost like she's proud of it. "Can't remember a damn thing before that; not even my own name. That's why everyone calls me Six."

I wipe a small puddle of condensation from the table before I set my bottle back down. We've only been talking for thirty minutes, but it seems like we've been sitting here for hours. At least this is more enjoyable than listening to Quinlan drone on and on about the Litany.

"Why 'Six'?" I ask, noticing the silvery scar in the center of her forehead. "You could've just completely reinvented yourself. Gave yourself a new life."

"Well... out in the Mojave, we have people who are hired to run mail across the Wasteland. They're called Couriers. It just so happens that I'm a Courier. Courier Six according to the list of names they had in Primm. Having people call me Six seemed like the easiest route. Sounds kinda cool, too." She takes a long drag from her cigarette to finish it off before snuffing it out in the ashtry beside her. Smoke pours from between her lips as she exhales.

I look over at Katherine, the woman from Maxson's room. "And you're a Vault Dweller?"

She nods, fiddling with the dials on her Pip-Boy absentmindedly. "I... I was."

"...Was?"

"Mm-hm... They exiled me... The whole matter is... complicated."

"That's a fucking understatement," Six mutters, knocking back a shot of... something. She'd taken a bottle from one of her storage pouches before we sat down and started taking hits from whatever hooch she's got stored in there. "She purifies the water in the goddamned Capital Wasteland and barely gets more than a 'thank you'."

Katherine tenses a little at the mention of her former home. "It's not that big of a deal, Six. That was... a long time ago. Almost ten years."

I raise my eyebrows, everything finally clicking into place in my head. "You... you're the Lone Wanderer?"

She smiles sadly. "Is that what they're calling me these days? Guess Moira couldn't come up with anything better..."

"I've heard so much about you from the scribes... I'm... sorry if I said something wrong.. I didn't mean to--" I shut my mouth before I say something else stupid.

Katherine shakes her head, leaning over onto the table. "It's okay, Delaney. There's nothing the matter with it. All that's behind me now."

I just nod a little, watching the little rivulets of water run down the side of my beer bottle. Six lights another cigarette and puts away her bottle of liquor, leaning back in her chair. 

"So..." The Courier pipes up after a long moment of silence. "What's your story, Sole Survivor?"

I look up at the both of them, clearing my throat a little nervously. "You... don't want to hear about me. I'm not very interesting."

"Oh, I beg to differ... General," Katherine says, smiling at me.

"Well... I'm pre-war. My husband, son, and I were cryogenically frozen in our Vault. Some sort of experiment. Anyway, my husband was killed and my baby kidnapped. You've heard of the Institute, right?" They both nod. "They took my son. Fast forward and I finally find him... except he's the leader of said Institute. To make a long story short... I ended up destroying the Institute with the aid the Minutemen and secured peace between the three remaining factions. That's how I became Sentinel. Through diplomacy."

Six breathes out, smoke emitting from her nose and mouth. I almost half expect it to come out her ears next. "Damn," she says. "There's gotta be more than that though."

I shake my head. "I don't really like talking about it..."

Six goes to say something else, but Katherine beats her to the punch, "Fair enough. We won't pry." She glances down at her Pip-Boy. "We should all get to bed. Busy day tomorrow."

Both Six and I nod. We all say our goodbye and go our separate ways. I go back to my quarters and collapse into my bed, not even caring to remove my damned uniform. Danse's scent fills my head and I drift off before I even know what's happening.


	11. Danse

When he crawled in bed behind her, he wasn't sure what kind of response he was expecting. An elbow to the nose, maybe, or a knife held to his throat, but this... is totally unprecedented.

Delaney actually rolls over, making the faintest of tired noises, and curls around him. Her face presses into his chest and her arm comes up to drape across his ribs languidly. Danse smiles softly and presses a kiss to her scalp, his hand sliding down to pull the blankets back up around her before resting in the dip of her lower back.

You can take the woman out of the Commonwealth, but you can't take the Commonwealth out of the woman. Since Delaney stepped into this goddamned world she's learned to sleep with one eye open and no less than a pistol under her pillow. Paranoia and trauma have left the vault dweller, at times, a nervous wreck, especially curing the search for her missing son. Danse can attest to this matter as coming to bed after she's gone to sleep has earned him everything from a black eye to a busted rib. Talk about insecure.

Danse massages small circles into her back as he himself begins to doze off.

***

In the early morning, the soft alarm on Delaney's pip-boy draws her out of sleep at the hearty time of 4 a.m. What on earth is she doing getting up at this godforsaken hour?

Danse opens his eyes, watching her blink open her own and smile softly at him. "You're back," she whispers, hands traveling up beyond the blanket to cradle his face in her palms as though she were trying to convince herself that he's really there.

Danse nods, pulling her small frame closer to his larger one. Warmth coils in deep in his chest and stomach, half from growing arousal and the other half from the peace she stirs in him.

Pressing his lips to her neck, Danse lets his eager hands slide under the thin fabric of her tank top, hiking up the ribbed cloth as he goes to expose her trim waist and stomach. Of course, however, interruption is inevitable. A loud squawk from the radio set on Delaney's desk pulls both soldiers out of their stupor and draws Delaney from the bed to answer whoever is trying to communicate.

She sits down in front of the radio and presses down on the base of the mic. "Hello?" She says yawns, the world barely recognizable as a greeting. Even with all the training she went through in her time with the Brotherhood, she's never had a knack for radio etiquette. The codes and call signs are all completely lost on her.

"General? General, where are you?" Preston Garvey's voice comes over the speaker, anxious and shaky. "General, they need you at the Castle."

Delaney yawns again and speaks once more into the mic. "Whatever Ronnie wants can wait. It's four in the goddamn morning."

"Just do it, General," Preston says, probably a little more forcefully than he meant, and clicks off the other end of the line. Delaney sits for a moment, staring at the speaker in shock, before she lazily starts getting dressed, donning her General's uniform.

Danse slides out of bed, coming up behind her as she fixes her hair in the mirror, and settles his hands on her waist gently. "Do you really have to go?" He says, resting his chin on her shoulder.

The woman sighs, dropping her arms down to her sides in defeat. "Yes. Something's got Preston wound tight as a tripwire. I should check it out."

"I can come with you. If you'd like me to, that is." Danse starts rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back again. The muscle has tensed there, drawn taught with clear worry and stress.

Delaney shakes her head and moves away from him, grabbing her laser musket and slinging it over her shoulder. "You're going to stay here and rest. I'll be back soon." She comes back over and kisses him softly, lips only meeting his for a moment. "Probably just a runaway Brahmin or something."

"...Be careful." Danse leans down and presses his forehead to hers.

She smiles and looks up into his eyes. "Always am."


	12. Maxson

He and Katherine had watched her return, the scent of blood trailing her bruised form. She went immediately for the mess hall and sat down at the bar, removing her hat and laying it on the counter beside her. Katherine, being one of the most kind-hearted and compassionate creatures he knows, kissed Arthur's cheek and made her way down the hall to join the Sole Survivor at the bar. 

Arthur waits for a moment before he goes and knocks on Danse and Delaney’s door, wanting to give the Paladin the news of her return and the stress that could be seen clearly in her face. 

“I'll be there in a moment,” Danse’s voice echoes from inside, and true to his words, he arrives at the door minutes later. His face visibly hardens when he sees that it's Arthur at the door. Clearly, he still holds a grudge. “Elder… What can I do for you?”

Returning Danse’s glare, he squares his shoulders, not willing to back down from the challenging glint in Danse's eyes. “Sentinel Pendleton has returned. She seemed… distraught. I know that simply your company soothes her, so I thought I should inform you.”

Danse glances down the hallway for a moment, then looks back at Arthur, face softened a little. “There was a brief battle at the Castle,” Danse starts to explain. “She radioed in earlier. Apparently she… lost a lot of good men.”

“Oh…” Arthur chews his lip. 

He knows that Delaney has spent the better part of her time in the Commonwealth building up the Minutemen. She babies her settlers and subordinates, rushing around and granting their every wish and whim. It's almost like her motherly instincts have kicked into overdrive, taking the citizens of the wasteland under her wing and nurturing their growth. At least, that's as far as he can explain it. 

“Please,” He says. “Pass my condolences to her.”

Danse nods before walking off down the hall, joining the Sole Survivor, the Lone Wanderer, and Courier Six at the bar. 

***  
Arthur steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry his hair and body before he joins Katherine in their now shared bed. Each day he spends with her, he finds more strength slowly returning. The gunshot wound he suffered still aches and makes some tasks hard to perform, but luckily it too is healing. The radiation, also still a pain to withstand, still makes him nauseous and weak at best, but Katherine gives him the strength he needs to endure.

After he slides into bed beside her, Katherine curls into his uninjured side, light fingers tracing over old scars. “Boone will be arriving tomorrow,” She says and Arthur's not sure if she is talking to him or herself. 

“Boone?” He asks, raising a dark eyebrow in curiosity. 

“Six’s husband,” Katherine explains, eyes tracking up to his. In the dark of the room, she seems almost younger than him, childlike even. The worry lines in her face have vanished for the moment, her demeanor relaxed and carefree. “His name is Craig Boone. He was part the NCR’s First Recon team. Talented sniper, but a puzzling man. Never can tell what he's thinking. Thankfully, he and six understand each other. Glad he's giving marriage a second chance.” 

Arthur starts chewing his lip again, an anxious and irritating habit he's picked up over the years. “Speaking of marriage…” He leans over and sifts through his coat pocket, retrieving a small box from within. He holds it up where she can see it in the dark of the room and opens it, revealing a real diamond ring with the name ‘Maxson' carved into the inside of the band. “Katherine… Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Her eyes widen a moment and Arthur almost thinks she's going to be angry with him. But then she smiles and replies, “Yes. I will.”

Arthur thinks he might burst into flames when he slips the ring onto her finger, the last mechanisms of their lives clicking into place and sealing their fates together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far, guys! Leave a comment or a kudos to let me know how I'm doing!


	13. Delaney

“Sentinel. Sentinel, wake up.” Hands shaking me, pulling me out of the precious sleep I never get enough of. “Wake up.” No. No, I don't want to open my eyes. Every time I do I see… I see them. I see my soldiers mangled and bloody at my feet. I see bodies littering the courtyard of the Castle, staining the ground a splotchy red. I don't want go see that again. 

 

A hand encloses mine, big and warm and gentle. Danse's hand. His breath caresses my ear when I feel him lean closer and whisper, “ Please, Del. Just a little while longer. Then we can go and rest.” 

 

Groaning slightly, I open my eyes, the near sterile lighting of the room flooding in and blinding me for a moment. Maxson, Quinlan, Teagan, Case, and Ingram come into view, all of them interested in my waking up. “Sorry... “ I mutter, sitting up more in my chair. 

 

Maxson’s face softens with… is that sympathy? “That's quite alright, Sentinel,” the Elder says. “ We understand your plight.” 

 

I nod a little, leaning more toward Danse now as the meeting starts back up again. Quinlan insisted that I come being a potential candidate for Elder. I don’t know what I accepted the goddamn nomination in the first place. 

 

“To wrap up the meeting, I wanted to present a concerning discovery from the battle at the Castle,” Quinlan says and nods at a scribe who was waiting quietly in the corner. The scribe comes forward and places a canvas bag with… something in it on the table next to the proctor. “It seems the Minutemen had a chance to destroy at least one of their enemies.” I shoot him a distasteful look. Like my soldiers or not, the Commonwealth favors them over the Brotherhood. 

The scribe scurries from the room, clutching his stomach, before Quinlan begins unrolling the bag. It reveals a human head, but… not at human as one would think. From the back, one could mistake it as human, dark curly hair a mess atop its head. But the face would send any sane person screaming. It possesses all the makings of a mirelurk’s head, down to the rough skin. 

 

Elder Maxson’s eyes widen. “What the hell is that?” He sputters, voice barely a whisper. 

 

“This…” Quinlan responds. “...Is our new enemy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how I'm doing! Constructive criticism is appreciated!
> 
> (This is the end of Dysphora: part 1. Part 2 coming soon.)


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